


Coming Full Cirle

by emmajane666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmajane666/pseuds/emmajane666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when two people meet, their feet are set on the path of destiny. Together they walk it, for better or for worse, and it won’t stop until it comes full circle. When Dean’s life is turned upside down by his family’s move to Australia, he never expects that he’ll meet someone who changes his whole perspective. Cas is funny, mysterious and broken; Dean can’t deny the spark that draws them together. As they spend their last year of school together, they face ups and downs that eventually break them apart. But fate is not done with them yet- they meet again, five years later and everything has changed between them. Will they be able to face the odds and come full circle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1993. Dean

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first attempt at a fanfic, I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Let me know what you think of it :)

Dean was angry. He left the small apartment that his family shared with the slam of a door, leaving the house shaking in his wake. Ignoring his brother that came out after him in concern, he took off into the dusk. It was cold out, and Dean flipped up the collar of his leather jacket against the piercing wind. Summer was long gone by now, and the memories of happier times with it. But he didn’t want to think about that. So this is what his life had been reduced to- running away and trying to not look back. Abusing anything that would help him forget.   
The sky had faded from a brilliant red to a pale blue by the time Dean stopped walking. His feet ached from the swift pace that he had been walking at, in an attempt to get away from all of his problems. Although, by now, he should have learnt that in his life, running away never solved anything. His problems were the sort that track you down and drag you back.   
Dean stopped, his breathing hitching slightly due to the exertion of climbing the hill. Now that he was on top, he could see the whole neighbourhood below him, the houses lit up light fairy lights. It was beautiful in it’s normality.   
This hill was Dean’s favourite place to go when he wanted to get away from it all. He had spent many nights here by himself, under the stars, often with a drink in his hand. And now this was to be the last night. Dean breathed out in frustration as he kicked the ground. There was nothing he wouldn’t give up to have a normal family again. 

Two years ago, he had that exactly. A normal, happy family life. His little brother, Sam, had just started high-school and was already acing his classes, and Dean was happy just to be going through the motions. They would come home to their mum cooking in the kitchen, singing “Hey Jude” softly to herself, and their dad smiling as he washed the car grease off his hands. Friday nights used to be Dean’s favourite, because their mum would make pie for dinner, just how Dean liked it. Their dad never shouted, and they had never moved. Dean had grown up in that town, never been out it, and that is how he liked it. Then it all changed.  
It was an ordinary night, just like any other. Impossible to distinguish from the hundreds other before it. Dean went to bed, did some homework and fell asleep to his favourite horror movie.   
It was1:30am that he woke up to the screaming. At first, he thought it was a dream, as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. There was a strange scent that was clogging his nose, and it took him a few minutes to recognise it. Smoke. He heard his dad shouting from the other room, and then he burst into Dean’s room, his eyes wild with panic.   
“Get out! Get out! There’s a fire! Take Sammy and wait outside. Don’t come back in. Go!” He yelled, barely perceptible over the roar of the fire. Dean stumbled out of bed and grabbed Sam’s hand, dragging them out the front door and onto the dewey grass. There were firefighters and police waiting out the front, and a whole group of neighbourhood people looking on in concern.  
“Are there any more people in the house?” A firefighter shouted at Dean. He nodded mutely, and then croaked:  
“My mum and dad.”  
The firefighter looked on kindly and pushed them over to the waiting ambulance, where they were wrapped in blankets.  
“We’ll get them out,” he promised, before a team of them rushed into the inferno. Dean didn’t remember much after that, apart from the flash of the fire before his eyes and the pressure of Sam’s hand in his. Later, they were told that the fire was one of the most destructive that they had ever seen in the areas. It was just words flying over Dean’s head, meaningless. John, their dad, had come to pick them up from the hospital; Their mum was nowhere to be seen. When asked where she was, John merely shook his head, and then his face crumpled into tears. They found out later that the fire was caused by a malfunctioning toy, one of Dean’s. Mary didn’t make it.  
The funeral was held not long after, and Dean remembers that John didn't speak for weeks after. Dean and Sam found their own way to school and back, but neither had the motivation to care anymore. Their dad became a stranger to them, and Dean took on the responsibility of caring for Sammy.   
They came home from school about a month after, and the house was bare, all the furniture gone and packed away.  
“Dad?” Dean called, wandering the empty rooms, looking for his father. He found him in his parents old room, surrounded by boxes and his face heavy with private grief.   
“We’re leaving. Pack your things,” he said, and turned away.   
In the several years after that, they moved around aimlessly. Never staying in one place more than a few months, their dad finding work as a mechanic or any odd job he could pick up.   
Dean gave up on school completely, preferring to wander around or get into trouble instead of school. Sam still went, seemingly determined to graduate and become a lawyer. Dean didn’t know if Sam was still as cut up about mum as he was- they never talked anymore. And Dean? Dean hated himself. It was, after all, his fault, because it was his toy that started the fire. He found solace in drinking himself to death and burying all his feelings so deep it was like they weren’t there.   
Now, Dean laid back against the rough ground and stared up at the fading sky. Their father had just told them that he was moving them to Australia. Dean and Sam were used to the constant moving, but a whole country? Dean felt his face twist up in anger. He couldn’t wait until he was 18, so he could take off. Every time he looked into his father’s face, he was reminded that everything was all his own fault.   
“Dean?” Came a quiet voice.  
Dean started and looked down to see his little brother looking up at him.  
“I thought I told you guys I wanted to be left alone,” Dean said roughly. He still couldn’t manage to be properly angry at Sammy. It was still his job to look out for his little brother.   
“I know, I’m sorry. But I was worried. Can I join you?” Sam asked hesitantly. Dean sighed, but jerked his head in a slight nod before lying back on the grass. Sam clambered up and then laid down beside Dean, staring up at the now inky sky.   
“Are you okay?” Sam asked, after a moment.   
“Can we not talk about it?” Dean snapped, and then softened. “I just don’t wanna talk about it.”  
“Sorry,” Sam muttered.  
It was quiet for a moment as the brothers stared at the sky, contemplating.   
“So, Australia, huh?” Sam asked, trying to lighten the mood. Dean grumbled something incoherently that sounded like a string of curses.   
“Screw that. Why does Dad always have to do this to us? I don’t want to move to friggin’ Australia man!” Dean blurted out angrily.   
“Yeah, I hear you. But I don’t know, maybe a change of scenery might be good for us?” Sam said. Dean snorted condescendingly.  
“We’ve been having a change of scenery for the past two years, Sammy. This is just another one of Dad’s stupid ways to run away from his issues. He doesn’t care about us anymore, it’s pretty obvious.”   
Sam raised his eyebrows but didn’t disagree.   
“I’m just tired, okay Sammy? Tired of running from nothing, moving from state to state. I don’t want to run anymore.”  
Sam sighed and returned his gaze to the sky. He didn’t understand his brother sometimes. Trying to understand Dean was like solving a rubrics cube only to find that no colours were the same. Sam just went along with it- Dean was his only family.   
“I’m sorry things are like this,” was the only thing Sam could think to say. Dean looked over at him in weary affection.   
“It’s not your fault, little brother. Let’s go home.”  
Night had well and truly fallen by the time the two brothers stumbled home into the warm apartment. John was nowhere to be seen, as usual. Sam shrugged at Dean’s questioning glance, and Dean made his way to his room. Dean’s bedroom was small, and sparsely furnished. It was the first time he had ever had a room to himself since they started moving, but Dean didn’t really bother wasting time making it his own- they were moving, yet again. Slowly, Dean began to pack up the clothes on his floor and in his closet, into the waiting boxes. He didn’t have much- living out of a suitcase will do that to you.   
By the time Dean had packed everything, it was 3am and Dean crashed onto his creaky bed. It was too short for him, and his feet hung off the edge. For now, all was quiet in the dark room. Dean rolled over on his side and tried to ignore his loud thoughts, which stifled him in the silence. The morning couldn’t come soon enough. 

Dean rubbed sleep blearily out of his eyes the next morning as Sam fixed him instant coffee at the breakfast table. They were all packed, and their plane was taking off in four hours. John was still nowhere to be seen.  
Dean took a sip out of the cup that Sam placed before him and nearly spat it out everywhere. Instant coffee was disgusting. Sam half smiled to himself and sat down with a plate of eggs.  
“Want some?” He offered. Dean shook his head. The combination of anger, nerves and jittery excitement that coiled in his stomach made him lose his appetite. Sam shrugged and dug in.   
Half an hour later, the door opened and John hurried in, seemingly distracted.  
“Are you boys all ready? We need to leave now for the airport. Don’t leave anything behind, because we’re not coming back,” he said, grabbing a few boxes and rushing out the door again. Dean rolled his eyes and gathered his stuff up, Sam trailing not far behind, to the waiting car out front. John beeped the horn.  
“C’mon guys! We don’t want to miss this plane!” He yelled. Dean glared at him as he slammed the impala boot closed. Sam rose shotgun and Dean sat in the back, brooding. The drive to L.A.X was an hour long, with the tension in the car crackling. Sam tried to make light conversation between his brother and father, but neither were interested and muttered short replies.   
Dean stared unseeingly out the window at the highway and passing scenery. He was going to miss the desert of California, and just America in general. It was the only place he’s ever known, never having travelled before due to his fear of planes. Idly, he wondered what Australia would be like. He already knew from tv that they had funny accents and it was really hot over there, pretty much all the time. Not Dean’s idea of fun, winter being his favourite season. But there might be some perks, he hoped. He’d seen photos of the beautiful beaches on the coast where they were moving, with sparkling blue water and lush forest surrounding the headlands. Dean shrugged to himself. Only time would tell, he supposed. 

Dean stretched stiffly in his uncomfortable chair on the plane. It was a 13 hour flight, and only two hours in so far. In the first half an hour, Dean’s nerves had been killing him. He was so terrified of flying, and the takeoff was the worst. Sam had to coax Dean out of the death grip he had on the chair and try and make him relax. Dean tried to watch a movie to get his mind off it, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that they were flying several thousand feet in the air and they could crash. Now, Dean glanced over at Sam, who had fallen asleep leaning against him, Sam’s mouth slightly open. Dean felt an overwhelming rush of affection for his little brother, whom he cared for so much. There wasn’t anything Dean wouldn’t do for Sam, and vice versa. They were all they had. Dean grabbed one of the blankets supplied by the airline and gently covered Sam with it, before returning to the cheaply made horror film he had been watching. Dean envied Sam, with his ability to fall asleep easily anywhere. Sleep was a far away idea for Dean, so hyped up on nerves. These days, sleep would have been an easy escape for Dean away from his broken family and the twisting thoughts inside his head, but it evaded him and most nights he could be found in his room at 4am, crying softly. Not that he would ever tell anyone, even Sam, about his issues. Like the way he still blames himself for the death of his mum and how sometimes, killing himself doesn’t seem like such a bad way out. The only way to deal is to bury it, so deep that the pain can’t be felt.   
Dean is only 17, yet sometimes he feels a hundred years old, with the burden of his pain. Dean rubbed a hand over his prickly face and shook the bad thoughts off, closing his eyes and waiting for the sleep that never comes. 

Dean gently tugged on Sam’s arm as the hostess wanders through the isles, offering drinks.  
“We’re almost there ladies and gentlemen! Just another half an hour until landing. In the meantime, can I offer you drinks?” She says cheerfully. Dean accepts an orange juice gratefully and sips it, trying to calm his nerves again. The plane starts to wobble slightly as it descends and Dean struggles to maintain his calm breathing.  
“Hey, Dean, it’s going to be okay, alright? This is normal for a plane. We’re not going to crash,” Sam reassures his brother, noticing how white Dean’s face has gone. Dean looked over in mild terror and Sam had to stifle a laugh at his brother’s expression.  
“Seriously, Dean. Relax.”  
Dean ignores his brother’s advice and instead gazes past Sam to the open window that reveals a layer of clouds and the sunrise. It’s beautiful, and through the clouds Dean can glimpse the occasional flash of water. As they draw nearer to the ground, the city of Sydney reveals itself, full of towering skyscrapers that flash in the reflection of the dawn. It reminds Dean painfully of L.A, and he turns away as the plane begins it’s descent.   
Lights, sounds, people- people everywhere. They all rush around Dean, everyone seemingly having their own place to go. Dean stops for a moment to absorb the energy, as Sam and their father wander off to find the luggage. Everything is the same as back home, but not. It’s unfamiliar in a way that Dean can’t place. It’s the height of summer in Australia, but everyone here is clothed in denim jackets and long pants.   
“Dean, c’mon, let’s go. Dad found our luggage,” Sam calls.   
The family of three walk out of the airport and into their new lives. 

It’s so strange, seeing the city of Sydney. Dean watches with a kind of fascination as they travelled through the main streets, seeing all the people and stores. It’s so different from America, and Dean can’t wrap his head around the fact that this is where he will be living now. The drive to their new apartment is more than an hour, but Dean doesn’t mind. Back home in California, it was a desert landscape, all sand and rolling hills, but here, there is greenery everywhere. It’s beautiful. John looks in the rearview mirror and their eyes meet, but for the first time in a while, John doesn’t immediately look away. Instead, a ghost of a smile touches his lips and he returns his eyes to the road. Dean frowns. Perhaps Sammy was right when he said they needed a change of scenery.   
They arrive to the apartment and begin the lengthly process of unpacking. By the time they are done, the sun is beginning to set and the birds are calling to each other as they go to roost.   
“Well boys,” John says as he shuts the impala’s boot. “What do you think so far?”   
“It’s good, dad. I think we’ll be happy here,” Sam says, rather optimistically in Dean’s opinion. But hey, what’s the harm in Sammy being happy for once?  
“When does Sam start school here?” Dean asked, since he probably would be the one to take Sam to school and back due to John’s absenteeism.   
“Tomorrow. And Dean? You’ll be joining him. I don’t have any plans to move for a while, so you may as well get yourself an education and finish school.”   
Dean stared incredulously at his father.  
“Are you kidding me?” He said, not sure if this was a joke.  
“No, I’m serious. And if I find out you’ve been cutting class, there will be consequences,” John replied threateningly.   
Dean was in disbelief. He hadn’t been to school in nearly a year, and now all of a sudden his father decides that he has authority over him and plays the parental role? Yeah, right. Dean spins on his heel and storms into his room, where boxes flow over with clothes and Dean’s few trinkets.   
Why does his dad always have to do this? Just when Dean was finally settling in to some kind of routine, he has to turn it all on it’s head. But whatever- Dean has never been one for rules. He’ll drop Sam off in the morning and then go for a drive somewhere and explore this new place.   
Dean flops down on the bed, exhausted after the long flight and unpacking. As he drifts between sleep, Dean wonders what it would be like if he did end up going to school. It’s been so long. Honestly, Dean knows the reason why he doesn’t to go back to school is because he’s scared. The normality of it all- it reminds him of before. It hurts too much to be reminded of how his life used to be, so he will avoid anything that could resurrect the ghost memories.   
So no school for him tomorrow. But, just before he drifts off, he gets a niggling feeling telling him that things are all about to change.


	2. Castiel

Castiel was angry. He’d stayed out too late last night, smoking with friends, and now his mum was making him go to school. It was 8am, and her yelling was doing no favours for the pounding headache Cas had acquired.  
“Okay, fine!” He yelled, and finally his mum quit her racket. “I’ll go to damn school. Jesus, whatever mum.”  
He pulled on his favourite worn denim jacket- the one with the stitched on patch that was perfect to hold his smokes- and fled out the door, backpack bouncing on his back. It was a beautiful day outside, typical of an Australian summer. Soon it would be too hot for Cas to wear his jeans and jackets comfortably, which Cas hated. The only good thing was that he would be able to show off his new tattoos, which wind all up and down his arms; courtesy of Cas’ newest friend who happened to also be a tattoo artist, and had tattooed him for free, despite being only 17. As Cas walked to school, he pulled a smoke out of his pocket and lit it idly. It was a terrible habit, he knew, but he was past the point of caring about his health. He smoked cigarettes and weed nearly every day as an escape, and he didn’t care if he got sick. It was less than a year until Cas graduated and could leave his family. He couldn’t wait- his parents were so fucked up. School was a brief reprieve from the constant fighting, but not by much. Teachers hated Cas and his friends because they were always skipping class and smoking in the bathrooms, just causing general chaos. Sometimes, Cas felt like the loneliest person in the whole world; he couldn’t even talk honestly with his closest friends, Balthazar and Gabriel. They enjoyed raising a little hell, but they didn’t understand how Cas sometimes felt like a dark pit was swallowing him up and there was no coming back. Cas had made peace with it as best he could and accepted the fact that he was permanently trapped in a state of melancholy. He found solace in brash, angry music, and abusing anything that was self destructive; anything that would get him out of his head.  
As Cas walked along, he scuffed his Doc Martens against the pavement littered with rubbish and old cigarette butts. He pauses, and adds one to the pile before walking into the gates of school. 

Cas shifted his heavy textbooks from one arm to another as he walked with Charlie- one of his few female friends- to their next class, English. She was chattering away about some party the other night which Cas hadn’t gone to. He tuned her out. He loved Charlie, he really did, but sometimes he wished she would shut up. The halls were busy with a flood of students, grabbing books from lockers and rushing to get to class in time. Cas was shoved into someone and turned to say sorry, but the words dried on his tongue as they made eye contact. He had a shock of brown hair and intense hazel eyes that bordered on green, dressed in a worn leather jacket and skinny jeans. A small amulet swung around his neck. Their eyes locked, blue versus green. It took Cas a moment to realise he was stopped and the flow of students moved around him. Cas frowned and turned away to catch up to Charlie, who was waiting at the entrance of their class.  
“What was that?” She asked curiously. Cas shook his head.  
“Believe me, I’d tell you if I knew.”  
Charlie shrugged and filed into the class, Cas trailing behind, his mind clouded. He mentally replayed the scene in his head, wondering what was so special about the boy with the green eyes and amulet. When their eyes had met, an electricity had zapped between them, undeniable energy. Cas eventually shrugged it off- this school was big, and they probably were never going to see each other again.  
The class starts, and all the chatter dies down. Cas tunes out and instead daydreams about what he would do if he could leave right now. He is interrupted in his daydream by the door opening to admit Miss Ruther, the school secretary, and a boy trailing behind her. Cas stares up in mild shock as he recognises the worn leather jacket. He glances around the room at everyone, not seeming nervous in the least. He meets Cas’s eyes with a steady gaze, not showing any indication of the strange electricity from before. Cas frowns at him as he moves over to stand near their english teacher, Mr Douven.  
“Alright class, settle down!” Mr Douven calls over the commotion. “I’d like to introduce a new member of our class, Dean Winchester. Dean has come all the way from sunny California and his family have moved here, so let’s make him welcome please. If you want to take a seat just there,” he says, indicating to the empty desk in front of Castiel. Dean flops down in his desk and unloads his books. Cas stares thoughtfully at his back all lesson, watching him. He doesn’t know why, but he’s fascinated with Dean Winchester. There’s something about him that keeps drawing Cas back, and he can’t figure out what.  
As the class finishes up, Cas decides to say hello and see what Dean is like. He approaches Dean’s desk where he is packing up a large pile of textbooks, seemingly eager to get out of class and to break.  
“Hi,” Cas says. Dean looks up in mild surprise, but then looks back down and continues to pack up.  
“Hi,” he mutters, his attention on his books. Cas swallows the nerves that rise from the obvious dismissal and continues anyway.  
“So moved here from America huh? What’s it like?” Cas says, attempting to break the ice. Dean just looks at Cas as if to ask what Cas is still doing there.  
“Uh, okay. Look, I just wanted to say sorry, for before? I wasn’t paying attention. But yeah, whatever. See you around I guess,” he says hurriedly, feeling venerable and confused at Dean’s lack of response. He spins around and makes a beeline for an exit, his head spinning with more questions than before. 

The rest of the school day passes in a blur, all the classes melting into one. Cas doesn’t have any more classes with the mysterious Dean, so the day is spent mainly daydreaming. By the time the day is over, Cas is in a terrible mood. He dumps his books in his locker angrily and slams it shut. All day he’s been attempting to work Dean out, but he’s just going in circles. As Cas is leaving through the school gates, he sees Dean leaning against the stone pillar. Dean glances up as Cas passes by and half rolls his eyes. That is the last straw for Cas, who has been a bundle of simmering angst all day.  
“Just what the fuck is your problem?” He almost yells, stopping in front of where Dean is slouched. Dean looks up, not seeming scared in the slightest.  
“Just what the fuck is your problem?” He mimics rudely, raising his voice slightly to match Cas’s voice. Cas shakes his head and shoves Dean.  
“I was trying to be nice and say hi, but for some reason you seem to have social issues and can’t talk back like a normal, decent human,” Cas fumes.  
“I never asked for you to be nice,” Dean spat. Cas holds up his hands in mock surrender.  
“Sue me for trying. Jeeze, you’re an asshole. Whatever.” Cas turns away, disgusted.  
“At least I’m not a nobody stoner,” Dean mutters as Cas is walking away. Cas stops, and slowly turns around.  
“What did you say?” He asks threateningly. Dean seems unfazed, which infuriates Cas even more.  
“You heard me.”  
Cas snaps. He throws a punch, but Dean deflects and twists Cas’s arm. Hissing with the pain, Cas responds by socking Dean solidly in the throat with his free hand, and Dean lets go, coughing. While Dean is distracted, Cas shoves him and he falls onto the ground. Cas is about to kick him in the stomach, but something makes him stop. Breathing heavily, he looks down at Dean’s curled up form, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Cas sneers instead at Dean, and turns away, kicking dirt into Dean’s eyes.  
“Call me that again, and I’ll make sure you go home with more than a few bruises,” he hisses, before taking off into the afternoon.  
As Cas is walking home, he gingerly presses where his arm got twisted, grimacing. It hurts like hell, and he has split knuckles from where he punched Dean. At least he didn’t get his ass handed to him like Dean. Although Cas feels satisfied that Dean won’t try to fuck with him again, he can’t help but feel a niggle of regret. Seeing Dean on the ground, spitting blood and dirt, wasn’t the satisfying relief that Cas thought he would feel. Instead Cas feels almost guilty, but he shrugged the feeling off and buries it.  
It’s almost twilight by the time Cas gets home, and he breezes past his mum in the kitchen into his room. His brother’s heavy rap music is making the walls shake, and Cas thumps on the wall in annoyance.  
“Turn it the fuck down!” He yells. After a few moments the volume is lowered, but still completely legible. Cas sighs and decides not to bother about it. His backpack is thrown unceremoniously across his room to land with a thump somewhere behind the desk, and Cas throws himself down on his bed, opening up his laptop. Cas stares at the scribbled compositions and half done pieces of music on the screen, but doesn’t register. The terrible rap music is making it hard to think, and Cas isn’t in the mood to work on his music anyway. Cas closes his laptop and simultaneously lights a smoke, pulling hard. He leans back and closes his eyes, trying to tune everything out, breathing in the familiar scent of his favourite brand of cigarettes. Behind his closed lids, green eyes haunt him and he can’t stop seeing Dean curled over, in pain. Because of him. Although the guy is a complete asshole, Cas can’t help but feel that he didn’t really deserve the beating. Cas squeezes his eyes shut harder, attempting to chase the images away.  
The loud chirping of his phone wakes him several hours later. Cas opens his eyes blearily, registering the time on his led clock. It reads 8pm. He fumbles around in the bedsheets for a minute, searching for the noisy phone. Upon finding it, he flips it open and answers.  
“Hello?”  
“Cas! Hey, it’s me, Gabe. Listen, there’s going to be this mad party down at the warehouse tonight, and I was wondering if you wanted to come? I know parties aren’t really your thing, but Balth said that some guy he knows outside of school is coming along and bringing some tabs. What do you reckon? It starts at 10.”  
Cas frowned. Gabriel is right, parties aren’t his thing. Cas prefers to hang out with a small group of people in someone’s basement and get so stoned he can’t remember where he is. But Cas wasn’t the type to ditch his friends, and besides, it’s not like he had any plans for tonight.  
“Sure Gabe, I’ll see you guys there I guess,” Cas replied, before hanging up. He flips the phone shut and stares up at his ceiling, mentally preparing himself for the party. Cas reasons he can go for a few hours, and then he can take off somewhere to chill with his friends, away from the loud music and lights.  
“Castiel!” He hears his mum call faintly. Cas opens his bedroom door to shout down the hall.  
“What?” He yells. There is no reply, so after a few moments Cas shuts his door again, and begins to throw clothes around in his room. He searches through the messy piles until he finds what he is looking for- his favourite denim jacket and d.i.y ripped acid washed jeans. Double denim tonight. He hurriedly gathered all his things- keys, money, lighter- and balanced unsteadily on one foot as he pulled his scruffy converse on, leaving the laces untied. Just as he is about to leave out the front door, his mum appears in the room.  
“Where are you going?” She asks.  
“Nowhere,” Cas mutters. She frowns, and Cas sighs.  
“Just out with a few friends, okay? I won’t be gone long.”  
She raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t protest as Cas steps out the door and into the night.  
Cas stops outside the warehouse by the wharf where the party is being held. Muffled heavy beat music can be heard from the street, and through the grimy windows there is the occasional flash of colourful party lights. Cas takes a deep breath and opens the old side door into the warehouse, where he is greeted by a wave of music and hot air. Teenagers are everywhere- dancing, yelling, some passed out on the concrete floor. On the main dance floor, the group twists and writhes in time with the music. The strobe lights illuminate flashes of skin as they dance. Around the sides, smaller groups gather, passing joints back and forth, or attempting to talk over the pandemonium. Cas scans the crowd. searching for his friends in the sea of bodies. A small hand grabs his jacket, distracting him from his search. Cas looks down to see Charlie illuminated in the pulsing lights. She grins at him widely, and then begins to lead him away from the crowd, up a rickety staircase. At the top is a small loft that overlooks the warehouse, and it is dark. Cas sees Gabe and Balthazar lounging on several of the small couches, and they beckon him over.  
“Hey Cas!” Gabe yells. “What took ya so long?”  
Cas shrugs and attempts to speak over the loud music.  
“Are you guys high?”  
Balthazar giggles, which Cas takes as a yes. Charlie smiles mischievously at Cas, and pulls him down onto one of the free couches, where her long legs drape over the couch and she nestles herself in his lap. At some point, someone passes Cas a small white square, and he places it on his tongue where it dissolves. He settles in, feeling slightly uncomfortable at Charlie’s closeness, and waits for the drop.  
At some point, Cas realises that his mind is wandering and the bright lights look like pure rainbows falling from the sky. Everything slows down into slow motion- Gabriel dancing with a girl, the steady beat of the hypnotic music, Charlie’s wide cheshire cat grin. Cas throws back his head and laughs, feeling raw emotion flow through him, his head spinning. It’s like the world is glowing around him, in time with the rapid flutter of his heart as he rides the euphoria. Cas has never been happier, and he wants it to last forever, his vision a blur of rainbows, melting and twisting. Balthazar yelling brings him back temporarily from cloud 9, and Cas opens his eyes to see Charlie gently nibbling on his neck. Cas frowns, trying to gently push her off, but she clings to him and begins kissing his face.  
“Charlie,” Cas slurs. “Stophit.”  
“Oh, c’mon Cassy. I know you want me,” she giggles. She kisses him, tasting of burnt sugar and desire. Cas shakes his head more forcefully and breaks away. His euphoria is rapidly disappearing and panic is setting in. He glances around the loft, searching for someone to aid him, but it’s deserted. Charlie’s hands are creeping up his shirt, and his skin jumps at her greedy touch.  
“Stop,” Cas pleads. Charlie pulls his jacket off and Cas struggles under her weight, trying to move. She is straddling him on the couch, and her red hair is brushing his exposed skin. Cas grabs her arms and gives a shove, which is hard to do in his current state. She lets out a cry as she loses balance and falls back onto the couch. Hastily, Cas grabs his jacket and flees the loft, only turning back to see Charlie sitting in shock on the couch. Tears glint in her eyes.  
The party is still in full swing as Cas descends, despite his phone telling him it’s nearly two. So much time had passed that he wasn’t even aware of. Gabriel and Balthazar are nowhere to be seen, so Cas just leaves, almost breaking into a run when he is out and on the street. It’s cool out, and he shivers under his jacket. After a few moments of walking in silence, tears finally begin to fall, unbidden, down Cas’s face. Sobs rack his chest, and he gasps for air. It is only when he stops to lean against a lamppost and looks around that he realises he surroundings are unfamiliar. He’s lost. Cas screams in frustration and slams his hand into the pole, which only results in more pain. He can’t call anyone, because his mum wouldn’t come pick him up, and his friends don’t have cars. The only thing to do is walk until he sees something that is familiar.  
The streets are quiet, eerie almost, and Cas walks along, trying not to think. He is still high, and that doesn’t help his state of mind, feeling like someone is following him.  
He doesn’t know how long he has been walking when he reaches a small 24hr restaurant. The lights beam out onto the small carpark, and as Cas enters, the warmth greets him. It’s empty, save one person slouched down in a far booth. Cas gently rings the service bell at the desk, and a middle aged woman hurries out, smiling and offering him a menu. He accepts and turns to seat himself, before stopping dead. The person in the far booth has turned around, curious to see, and he’s not a stranger. Cas knows that leather jacket and bruised jaw. It’s Dean. Cas smiles to himself, unthinkingly, and decides to plop himself down at Dean’s table.  
“Hi,” Cas giggles, still feeling the effects of the acid. Dean frowns.  
“What do you want?”  
“I just wanted to say hi. Hi! I’m also very sorry about your face. Very very sorry,” Cas choruses.  
“Are you drunk?” Dean says, seemingly disgusted.  
“Something like that,” Cas says mysteriously, laughing to himself. Dean shakes his head, and returns to staring at his hands, which are bruised, and the nails chipped. Cas sighs.  
“So what are you doing here all by your lonesome?” He asks, curious.  
Dean shrugs, his eyes adverted.  
“I needed to get out of the house, I guess.”  
“I know what you mean,” Cas nods. Dean’s face hardens.  
“I don’t think you do.”  
Before Cas can ask him what he means, the lady comes over, cradling several plates, one stacked with a burger and chips, and the other soup. She places the burger in front of Dean, and the soup in front of Cas.  
“Enjoy,” she smiles, before returning to the kitchen. Cas looks up to see Dean glance adoringly down at his massive burger. He laughs.  
“What? This place has the best burgers in the whole of Sydney,” Dean says indignantly. Cas just shakes his head and starts on his soup. By the time they are both finished, the sky is lightening to a pale pink.  
“Um, is there anyway you think you could let me know how to get back to mine?” Cas asks to Dean hesitantly, before listing off his address.  
“I don’t know much about this neighbourhood, but I think if you follow that street for a few blocks you’ll get to it,” he says, gesturing. Cas smiles shyly, feeling even worse about fighting Dean. He actually seemed like a pretty decent guy, once he warmed to you.  
“Thanks. And, uh, I am sorry. Truly.”  
“Honestly, don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse,” Dean laughs. “And I guess I was being a bit of a dick to you.”  
Cas ducks his head, and waves goodbye as they both walk away in opposite directions, the sun streaking the sky like an oil painting.


End file.
